Originally published by The Clifton Courier, March 25, 2020

I usually wait until two weeks after my column has been printed before I post it online, but I feel as though this particular message is quite timely. 

Geez, what a time we’re in.

As far is risky places go, it’s easy to say that Clifton’s pretty low on the list. I mean, despite how many people I tell about the rich bloke our thrifty forefathers buried under the church or the tree jammed with cement, we still don’t see the same number of international tourists as, say, the Vatican does.

I used to lament how long it would take to do a late-night Macca’s run from our place, now I think it’s a real strong point for the town.

But, all the same, all this corona talk has made me a little uneasy. We don’t know a whole lot about this virus, but what we’ve seen is that it seems to be harsher on older and already unwell people.

If you’re anything like me, you might feel a little bit helpless. Most of us aren’t biochemists who could work on a vaccine or powerful politicians who can smash out some legistlation (or, as I’d call it if I were a pollie, legislache) to ease the economic impact of the fallout of this thing.

But helping the people you love, particularly the more vulnerable among us, gives you a sense of control. A feeling like you’re doing something that will make a difference. That you’re not lying down and letting this virus defeat us.

And, look, it would be great if we could literally take up arms against this thing. But we can’t get out a medieval-style sword and slash the air gallantly to kill the virus.

Not only would that be totally ineffective because viruses are too small for even the most skilled swordsman or woman to violently butcher, but medieval swords are actually super heavy and if you’re not used to wielding one, I reckon it would be real easy to pull a muscle.

All we can do is small, rather mundane things to protect the people we love from getting sick.

Things like going to the shops for them and leaving supplies on their doorstep. Or dropping off their mail at the Post Office. Or sharing your wifi password with a neighbour who doesn’t have Internet so they can stay home and Facetime their family.

They’re small things, but they make a difference in the long run. I don’t want to be preachy or sound like I know what I’m talking about, because I’m not doctor or social health expert. I mean, I’ve read some Dolly Doctor sealed sections in my time but that’s about it.

However, I do hope I’m not out of line to tell everyone, particularly those more vulnerable among us, to accept help when it’s offered.

I don’t think I need to say it, but I’d like to point out there are a lot of iconic Clifton characters in our midst who I wouldn’t dare label as “old”, but they have… been around long enough to have an informed opinion about whether the first frost actually does come after Anzac Day or not.

These well-seasoned folk are the kind of people that give our town its personality. They’re often the people manning the fundraiser barbecues, delivering Meals on Wheels, organising town events and coming out with some stinging wisecracks at the pub.

They’ve done a lot for us and, let’s be honest, some of us young folk just wouldn’t be able to run a Shrove Tuesday pancake stall on our own.

You’ve been the caretakers of our community and stepping back might go against your nature, but it’s time to let us return that favour. We don’t want to even imagine life without you, let alone have to endure the reality of it. We need you. Our town needs you.

So when the younger folk among us offer to help, please don’t feel like we’re patronising you. You’re not weak, you’re not over the hill and you’re definitely not a burden on society. You’re a vital resource, so to speak, and we want to keep you safe so you can keep contributing to our town (look, it’s a little selfish, I know).

These days, telling someone you don’t be anywhere near them comes from a place of love. I know it’s not easy, but try to see it as a compliment rather than an insult. Please, let the people who love you protect you.

Especially because, by accepting help, you’re actually really helping those people offering you help. We can’t predict the future, but with each small thing we do for each other, that feeling of dread softens.

Let us take care of you now so that, when all this is over, we can have one heck of a barbecue together… where we can be closer than 1.5 metres apart.